As A Friend
by Shadow Padawan
Summary: ObiWan realizes the real way in which he failed Anakin. Obi POV.


I did fail Anakin.

I never doubted that. I knew that bitter truth since I confronted him on Mustafar. Since everything that we once had was washed away by the fiery rivers of Mustafar, burned down to the ground until there was nothing left. I knew that truth since I saw that blaze in his eyes. Those eyes that had once been a beautiful blue, kind and gentle, had mutated into a hideous yellow, hellish and cruel.

Oh, I've always known the truth of my failure. I've never tried to comfort myself with the delusion that I had nothing to do with it, that I was not at all at fault in the death of that loving boy who had stood loyally by my side for thirteen years. All of Anakin's words that day had reflected how much he had changed, how twisted he had become by Palpatine's lies. Oh, and I had made it so easy for that man to work his black magic.

For, you see, I drove Anakin away. I never listened to him the way Palpatine did, the way I should have. Anakin ran to that man for solace, for comfort. An ambivalent boy, desperate for a warm hand on his shoulder and a few reassuring words. All I offered him were Jedi platitudes. I see it now so plainly that I marvel at my inability to see my mistakes then. I thought I was teaching him, helping him. He thought I was rejecting him.

_Dreams pass in time…_

He thought his mother was dying and all I had to tell him was a quip of Jedi dogma.

And I wondered why he had turned to Palpatine, why he had believed him? I had been such a fool. And all that time on Mustafar that my heart had been screaming, _Why Anakin?_ the answer had been there all along. However, my self-blame was never quite accurate.

I had seen him looking at me when he thought I was not aware. He was searching for something, reaching out carefully through the bond, probing at something. Maybe he was trying to find a way to approach me? I'll never know now I suppose. Sadly, I never gave him a reason to trust me with those deep secrets and passions that filled his heart. Too focused on showing him the Jedi way of dealing with things to show him that I could sympathize, if not empathize, with him. Too focused on being the model Jedi to show him that I loved him more then I ever thought possible.

Ah, yes, Anakin was my angel; a loving boy who always reached out and offered his heart to me. I wonder why I never dared to do the same. Was saying a few kind words his way a little more often such a breach of the Code? That fear of becoming attached to him was silly; I already was attached to him. There was no way around that fact. And yet I indulged that concern, distancing myself from Anakin.

Allowing him to run to Palpatine.

After that final battle, after there was no going back – the bridges between us blackened and burned – I sat there on the transport taking me to Tatooine and, cradling Anakin's new-born son, wondered if there was something I could have done to stop it.

I had resolved to be brutally truthful with myself. I had looked into Lukes eyes, so like his father's, and remembered that other set of blue orbs. The eyes that had looked to me for guidance, understanding, and acceptance for thirteen years.

I said I had failed as a teacher. That I had not taught Anakin the right things or at the right time or in the right way. Then I remembered clear blue eyes clouding over in fits of anger or some other un-Jedi-like emotion that I felt needed to be squashed. I had thought then that I hadn't taught Anakin how to control himself. I chose to believe that the fault lay in my teaching abilities or lack of therefore.

I see everything so much differently now. Now I remember blue eyes filled with tears or confusion. Blue eyes looking up at me in search of reassurance. In search of a friend. They had always found only a detached Jedi Master that I had strived to be.

Oh, I had taught Anakin all I knew and he had become a marvelous Jedi, with all the attributes of one as well. But Palpatine had been there to pry open the cracks that were still there. To rip open wounds that hadn't been tended to. The ones I had never seen or Anakin had never shown me because he felt I would react in the last way he needed – the Jedi way. I never strayed away from that rule book and Anakin ran to someone who lived by something other then a Code that preached the absence of emotion.

Now I realize there was so much more that I could have done, could have said. Had he known that I cared would he have trusted me with his secrets? Would he have come to me for comfort and advice and not run to the lair of corruption and evil that was Palpatine's office? The sad part is that the answer might have been yes. If only I had shown him that he had become an essential part of my life whether I wanted it or not. And that, in face, I did want him there.

I never failed Anakin as a Master.

I failed him as a friend.


End file.
